


13 hours

by Kats_watermelon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kidfic, memoriweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kats_watermelon/pseuds/Kats_watermelon
Summary: Emori leaves. Nine years later, Murphy gets a thirteen-hour road trip dropped on his doorstep.





	1. Chapter 1

Murphy fucked up.

At least, that’s what everyone at school says. That Murphy fucked up, that Murphy was the dumbass that got his girlfriend pregnant in high school, when she was only seventeen, too young to be a parent, that that’s why she left -

Murphy fucked up. 

Everyone at school says that Murphy blew a good thing, that he ruined her life and now she’s gone to another state to get an abortion, that she’s not coming back -

Murphy. Fucked. Up.

 

* * *

 

Emori laughs at him, sitting on the couch, her legs pulled under her. He grins from where he’s fallen on the floor.

“What, that wasn’t dashing enough for you?”

“You fell on your ass,” she says, amused. 

“Nuance. I still did it, didn’t I?”

“What did Murphy do?” Raven asks, walking through the front door. “Something stupid, I assume.”

“Of course,” Emori says, and Murphy puts one hand on his chest in mock offense.

“I was trying to be romantic!” he protests. “I saw a thing-”

“Yeah, yeah, nobody cares,” Raven says, grabbing an apple out of the bowl on the counter. “Emori, did you get him falling on video?”

“No,” Emori says. “But I’m sure Bellamy’s nanny cam got it.”

“That works,” Raven says, walking out of the kitchen. A second later, Murphy hears her yell, “Yo, Bellamy! I gotta get into your nanny cam! Gimme the password or I’ll hack it again!”

Murphy laughs and gets up off the floor. Emori stretches out over the whole couch, grinning at him. He raises his eyebrows at her and she just smiles back at him innocently.

“Like that’s going to stop me,” he says. He quickly slides his arms under her and flips her up, slipping onto the couch. She lands in his lap, laughing. He leans down to kiss her. She brings her hands up to cup his face and deepens the kiss. He hums, his teeth catching her lower lip and she makes a sound that makes him grin against her mouth -

“Not in the house,” Bellamy says, slapping the back of the couch. “And certainly not on my couch.”

Murphy pulls away but stays within a few centimeters of Emori’s lips.

“Hypocrite,” he says, and Emori smirks up at him. “I’ve had cleaning this couch as my chore. I know what you and Clarke do on it when we’re all at group therapy.”

Bellamy smacks the back of his head on his way by and grabs the nanny cam off the shelf, Raven eagerly waiting behind him. Murphy sits up and pulls Emori up with him. She settles into his side, fitting perfectly, like a puzzle piece.

“What do you need the nanny cam footage for?” Bellamy asks, but the way he types in the password, tiredly, indicates that he’s given up on trying to fight Raven. 

“Murphy did something dumb and I want to see it,” Raven says. “Really? Clarke’s birthday? You’re so unoriginal.”

“Objection!” Murphy cries. “I did not do something dumb! I did something romantic!”

“Whatever you say, Murphy,” Raven says, rolling her eyes at him. “I want to see you fall on your ass.”

“Curse violation,” Bellamy says half-heartedly, and Raven replies, “Fuck off, Bellamy.”

“Curse violation!” Jasper shouts from the kitchen. Murphy turns to see him standing at the blender, making some ungodly concoction with kiwi, bananas, what looks like strawberries, and what Murphy calls the “mystery liquid of the week”. He’s never had the courage to try one of Jasper’s drinks, but Raven assures him they are absolutely incredible.

The blender makes a discouraging crunching noise when Jasper starts it up.

“That better be spotless when you’re finished,” Bellamy says to him, handing the nanny cam to Raven. 

“You worry too much, Bellamy,” Jasper says. “I always clean it when I’m finished.”

Bellamy sighs and Raven bursts into laughter.

“Murphy, you really fucked that up!” she cries, ignoring Bellamy’s “Curse violation!” and clutching her stomach. “Oh my god, that’s the best thing I’ve seen in weeks!”

Emori laughs from where she is tucked into Murphy’s side and he just groans, throwing one arm over his eyes. 

“Monty! Jasper! Get over here! Shit, this is great. Bellamy, I’m saving this footage.”

“Do not!” Murphy protests, but Raven has already done something with the tablet connected to the nanny cam that surely will save the footage for later. 

“Monty, get Harper, she needs to see this. While you’re at it, get Miller, too.”

Emori laughs again, poking Murphy in the side and saying, “I don’t think you’re going to live this one down, John.”

“I’m probably not,” he says. She kisses his cheek and he turns his head to kiss her properly, ignoring the laughter of their housemates as Raven shows off the embarrassing footage and they heckle him for his absolute lack of coordination. 

Emori is smiling against his lips; that’s all he needs.

 

* * *

 

“Emori!” Murphy yells, tossing his keys onto the table by the front door. There is a spot carefully labeled with his name, but he ignores it, excited to tell Emori the news about the chem test. “Emori, where are you?”

Raven appears in his way, stepping out of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest. She glares at Murphy and he blinks, looking down at her.

“What did I do this time?” he asks jokingly, then goes to walk by her. Her hand shoots out and slams into his chest. He scowls this time. “What’s your problem? I just want to talk to Emori.”

“She’s gone, Murphy.” Raven slaps his chest angrily. “She’s gone.”

Murphy just stares at her, the words registering slowly, but he can’t comprehend the weight that they carry.

“What do you mean, she’s gone?’

“I mean exactly what I just fucking said, you dipshit,” Raven says, and Murphy’s stomach twists at the sight of angry tears in her eyes. “She’s gone. She left.”

The weight hits him, settling like stones in his gut.

“What the fuck do you mean, she left?” he demands.

“Murphy,” Clarke says, and Murphy turns his head to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s complicated.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks, a kernel of panic bouncing around in his lungs. “What do you mean, she left? Where did she go? When is she coming back?”

“She’s not, you fucking idiot!” Raven shouts, shoving Murphy backwards. “She’s gone for good!”

Murphy’s lungs collapse in on themselves. Clarke sees the look in his eyes and says, “Murphy, just wait,” but Murphy pushes past her and takes the stairs two at a time. He knows which door is hers, even with that stupid poster ripped down.  _ Ripped down. She always refused to take it down. _

He pushes the door open and all the breath leaves his lungs in a whoosh. 

The bed is empty, the sheets have been stripped, the drawers and closet are open and empty, all of her things are gone, her stack of books have been cleared from the desk, the pictures of the two of them that she taped to her walls are gone. There’s no trace of the girl that used to live there. Murphy turns in a small circle in the center of the room, his breathing getting faster as the kernel of panic expands until he’s nearly hyperventilating.

“Murphy,” Clarke says, standing in the doorway. She watching him with pity, something small held in her hands. “She’s gone. She left this morning after you left for school.”

“I thought she was sick,” he says numbly, trying to process everything. “She was throwing up, she was sick.”

“You dumbass,” Raven says, pushing past Clarke. She slams something into Murphy’s chest, a small cardboard box. “You fucking dumbass.”

Murphy’s hands find the cardboard box and Raven storms out, angrily muttering and swiping at tears. Murphy looks down at the cardboard box and the floor falls from beneath his feet.

_ Home Pregnancy Kit. _

“Is this- is this why she left?” he asks Clarke, his voice trembling. Clarke just looks at him sadly and holds up the little stick with the plus sign. Murphy’s head spins and he almost falls over, sitting down abruptly in Emori’s desk chair, the one that she always used to say creaked when she was trying to focus. Maybe it creaks, maybe it doesn’t - he’s too deep in his own thoughts to notice the difference. 

“We suspected about a week ago,” Clarke says, and it sounds like she’s speaking underwater to Murphy. “I got her a test and we did it this morning. The second it came out positive, she packed up and left. I’m so sorry, Murphy, I don’t know where she went.”

“You were supposed to protect her,” Murphy says quietly. “That was your promise when you took each one of us in. That you wouldn’t let us leave without knowing where we were going and if we would be safe.”

“Murphy, I tried, but she wouldn’t-”

“You didn’t try hard enough!” he shouts, standing. “You shouldn’t have let her leave!” His voice cracks and all his anger dissipates. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have- we should have been more careful.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything more and Murphy just sits down on the floor, putting his head in his hands and wishing he had a way to bring Emori back.

 

* * *

 

The rumors fly at school for the next few weeks - that Emori went to another city or another state to get an abortion, that she carved the baby out herself, that she’s gone back to California and Baylis’s old gang, that she’s dead -

Murphy wishes  _ he  _ were dead.

 

* * *

 

**_Nine years later_ **

 

Murphy is sitting on the couch in his apartment, drinking a shitty beer and watching a shitty show on TV, when the doorbell rings. He scowls and puts down the beer (he hasn’t even had enough to get buzzed, much less drunk) and goes to answer the door. It’s probably his cheerful neighbor from down the hall, insisting on pestering him no matter how many times he tells her he doesn’t like talking to her.

He flings the door open and blinks in surprise when nobody is standing there. There is a small cough and he looks down and blinks again, because there is a young girl standing at his door.

“Hi,” the girl says. “Are you John Murphy?”

“Yes,” Murphy says, confused. The girl grins brightly. He narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Iko,” the girl says. “You’re my dad!”

She hugs his leg and a million questions flood Murphy’s mind - mainly how to get children off of limbs. He looks up and down the hall, but there aren’t any people there, just closed doors. He finally sighs and says, “Let got of my leg and come inside, kid.”

The girl, Iko, lets go and skips into his apartment, immediately making herself comfortable on the couch. Murphy shuts the door and stares at her. She stares right back, still smiling at him, her legs swinging. He sighs again and drags one hand down the side of his face.

“Where are your parents, kid?” he asks. 

“Well, you’re my dad,” she says. “My mom lives in Washington DC.”

Murphy nearly has a heart attack at those words because  _ holy shit he lives in northern Maine and this kid just traveled almost 800 miles to meet him by herself. _

“Your mom lives in Washington DC,” he repeats, staring at her. She can’t be any older than eight. “And you traveled all the way to northern Maine to find  _ me _ ?”

“Yup,” Iko says. “You’re my dad!”

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but I don’t have any kids,” Murphy says. “Do you know your mom’s phone number, so that I can call her?”

“My mom doesn’t have a phone,” Iko says. “Besides, you  _ are _ my dad. I know you are. I have a picture of you.”

Murphy studies her, and he has to admit that there is something familiar about her face, something that pulls at a memory that he’s tried hard to bury. She digs in her jacket pocket and holds out a photograph, worn at the edges. Murphy sighs and goes to sit next to her and she begins to point at people in the photo. He recognizes it immediately and sits frozen as she explains the picture in the matter-of-fact manner that children have.

“My mom used to live in a group home,” Iko says. “For kids that didn’t have any parents. It was run by that guy, Bellamy, and his girlfriend, Clarke. That’s Clarke. My mom and her friends used to have lots of fun in that house, that’s where they all lived. That’s her friend Jasper. She says he used to make drinks with the blender. That’s Monty. He was really good with plants. That’s Raven, she was really good with computers and machines and stuff. That’s Harper, she was really nice and really good at braiding hair. That’s Miller, he was one of Bellamy’s friends. And that’s my mom.”

Murphy touches the photograph with a finger, tracing the smiling face of the girl that disappeared almost nine years ago.

_ Emori _ .

“And that’s you!” Iko says, pointing at the younger version of Murphy that stands with his arm slung around Emori’s shoulders. “My mom says that you were funny and kind, and that you loved her a whole heck of a lot.”

Murphy shuts his eyes, memories of sitting on Emori’s empty bed forcing their way into his mind.

“So I found your address!” Iko says brightly. “Because Mom said that she wouldn’t take me. She said something about not wanting to know about something. I don’t know.”

Murphy takes the picture from her, staring at his old friends. He knows where they all are. Bellamy and Clarke are married, still running that group home for kids without parents that got into trouble and had nowhere else to go. Raven has a PhD of some kind and is working at NASA and on her second PhD, has been for almost three years, the fucking genius. Monty and Jasper have their own smoothie shop down in Augusta, making all sorts of ungodly creations, he is sure. Harper is teaching kindergarten at the local elementary school and Miller is the local chief of police. Murphy is a librarian (usually a drunk one). 

Emori is the only one unaccounted for after all these years.

He looks down at Iko, who is looking up at him with a bright smile. She has Emori’s eyes and cheekbones, and his dimples. All those years, he believed the rumors that she had gotten an abortion or had died, but he never thought that she would be seven hundred miles away, raising the kid -

Their daughter.

Murphy’s world tips on its axis as he realizes what is sitting in front of him. It’s his daughter, the reason Emori left all those years ago, his flesh and blood. Iko hugs him, saying, “I’m so glad I found you, Dad.”

Murphy hesitantly puts his arms around her, patting her shoulder. It occurs to him that he doesn’t know what to do with children. Maybe he should ask Harper. He finally clears his throat.

“Listen, Iko,” he says. “I really admire your determination in coming eight hundred miles to find me, but I need to get you back to your mom.”

“You’re gonna stay, though, right?” she asks, looking up at him with big eyes. He swallows, recognizing the gold flecks scattered in her wide brown eyes. The number of times he’d gotten lost in those eyes as a teenager -

“Maybe,” he says. “It’s a bit complicated. Your mom and I haven’t spoken in nine years. Probably because she doesn’t have a phone.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Iko says, wrapping her arms around him again. Murphy stares at the top of her head, wondering what might have happened if Emori had stayed and he’d been there for Iko’s birth, if he had gotten to see her first smile, her first steps, her first words.

He finally makes Iko some pasta and sets her up on his couch with a few blankets. When he’s sure she’s asleep, he picks up his phone and dials Harper’s number.

“Murphy,” Harper says when she picks up the phone. “Are you aware of what time it is?”

“A little girl just showed up at my door saying that I’m her dad,” Murphy says. “She’s got a picture of all of us from the group home and she says that Emori is her mom.”

Harper is silent for a minute.

“Murphy, how old is she?”

“About eight,” Murphy says, glancing at Iko, who is sound asleep. 

“Sounds like she could really be yours,” Harper says incredulously.

“Harper, I don’t know what to do. She said Emori lives in Washington DC, she traveled eight hundred fucking miles to find me  _ by herself _ and now she’s sleeping on my couch.”

“You have to get her home,” Harper says immediately. “You have to go to DC and make sure she gets home.”

Murphy runs a hand through his hair, staring at the little girl fast asleep on the couch.

“Okay,” he says. 

“About damn time you got closure,” Harper says. “You’ve been pining for Emori for nine years now.”

“Fuck off,” Murphy mutters, hanging up. He tosses his phone onto the counter and sits down heavily in the armchair across from Iko, watching her sleep until his eyelids grow heavy and he drifts off.

He stirs when he feels a small body climb into his lap. Iko puts her arms around his neck and tucks her head into his shoulder, yawning. She falls back asleep there and Murphy, still half-asleep, puts his arms around her instinctively. He falls asleep again a minute later. 

Morning light wakes him up again and he becomes slowly aware of the child still sleeping in his lap. Iko snores a little, one of the endearing things that she has apparently inherited from her mother. Emori used to always deny that she snored, but Murphy knew the truth. He gently shakes Iko awake.

“Get up, kiddo, I’m making you pancakes,” he says. Iko mumbles something incoherent, tucking her face further into his shoulder, and his chest warms. He shifts her so that when he stands up, he’s carrying her, her arms still around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. He walks over to the counter and sets her down in one of the chairs. “Wakey, wakey, kiddo. I’m making pancakes.”

Iko puts her arms on the counter and rests her head on them, yawning.

“What kind of pancakes?” she asks sleepily. 

“Chocolate chip,” Murphy replies, hunting through his cabinets for the ingredients. “They were your mom’s favorite when we were in high school.”

“She makes them for me when I’m sad,” Iko says, perking up. “I bet you make them better! She always says you were a really good cook.”

Murphy smiles to himself at the thought of Emori cooking chocolate chip pancakes. He taught her to do it once, but that time, most of the batter had ended up on the two of them instead of in the pan. He dumps extra chocolate chips into the batter and starts up the stove. Iko sits up and puts her chin in her hands, watching him curiously. Murphy tries not to be nervous.

It’s weird to have his daughter that he didn’t know existed sitting at his kitchen counter, watching him make pancakes.

She cheers when he sets the plate in front of her with the pancakes, digging in enthusiastically. He gets himself a plate as well, sitting on the counter by the stove. 

“Okay, kiddo, we gotta talk,” he says, when she’s almost finished. She looks up, a smear of chocolate by her mouth. He hops off the counter and picks up a napkin, wiping it off for her. “You need to go back to DC, back to your mom.”

“And you’re coming,” she says. Murphy nods.

“I’m taking you home, and then I’m going home. Okay?”

“Okay,” Iko says, tipping her head to the side. “Are you gonna stay?”

Murphy drags one hand down the side of his face, shutting his eyes.

“Maybe,” he says. “Like I said last night, it’s a bit complicated, what happened between me and your mom.”

“Well you’re gonna talk to her,” Iko says, picking up her plate and hopping down from her chair. Murphy stares at her as she walks into the kitchen like she owns it and stands on her toes to put her plate in his sink. “And you’re gonna fall back in love with her and you’re gonna stay forever.”

She turns around and crosses her arms over her chest, tipping her chin up and looking at him with absolute determination. Murphy finally laughs. She has her mother in her, for sure.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s get going.”

She has a backpack that she left by his door the night before with a change of clothes. He has her put on the change of clothes and washes the ones she’d worn the night before. He packs himself a bag with a couple changes of clothes as well. He calls in to work sick and takes Iko down to his car. She hops into the front seat and he wonders dimly if she needs a car seat of some kind. 

“It’s a thirteen hour drive to DC,” Murphy says, buckling his seat belt. “We’re not going to make the whole thing in one day. It’s probably going to take two. Are you missing school?”

“Yeah,” Iko says. “But it’s okay! I found you!”

Murphy sighs, putting one hand over his eyes.

“Emori’s gonna murder me,” he mutters. “Hi, Emori, it’s been a while, here’s our kid, sorry she missed school, she traveled eight hundred fucking miles to find me.”

Iko giggles and Murphy starts up the car and starts to drive. Caribou, Maine is practically in Canada, so it’s going to take a long time to drive to DC. Iko hums to herself, her legs swinging as she watches the landscape slide by.

“How did you get up here in the first place?” Murphy asks. Iko shrugs.

“I took a bus.”

“To Caribou.”

“Yup.”

“And how did you pay for that?”

“Mom keeps money under her mattress,” Iko says, like it’s obvious. Murphy laughs.

She has a little of him in her, too.

He turns on the radio and Iko sings along in an off-key voice that she definitely did  _ not _ get from him and he can’t help but smile. She begins to tell him about her life in DC, about her friends and her school and her teacher and the park that she and Emori go to on Saturdays and the nice lady that lives down the hall from them. 

“Mom says Mrs. Brandt is creepy, but I like her,” Iko says, playing with the hem of her shirt. “She gives me lollipops sometimes!”

“Emori was always suspicious,” Murphy says. “I’m not surprised she thinks Mrs. Brandt is creepy.”

Personally,  _ he  _ thinks Mrs. Brandt sounds creepy as hell, but he’s not about to tell Iko that.

After about an hour and a half, Iko has to go to the bathroom, so Murphy finds a small town they can stop in and picks a gas station to use the bathroom at. When they get out of the car, Iko grabs his hand and skips up to the doors of the convenience store. Murphy follows along, opening the door when it proves too heavy for her. A bell rings cheerfully and an aging woman pops up behind the counter.

“Hiya,” she says with a grin, her eyes moving from Murphy to Iko. “What can I get you folks?”

“A bathroom key,” Murphy says. A bit of steel works its way into the woman’s smile.

“You gotta buy something for that,” she says. Murphy looks down at Iko.

“Pick out a candy bar, kiddo,” he says. “Just one.” She gasps, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Really? Mom never lets me have candy bars!”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Murphy says, even as the corners of his mouth twitch up. “Quit trying to guilt trip me. You get one.”

Iko pouts and the woman behind the counter laughs. Murphy just raises his eyebrows at the little girl until she grumbles, “Fine,” and picks up an enormous Kit-Kat bar.

“That’s too big,” Murphy says. “You’ll be bouncing off the walls.”

“You said I could have one,” Iko says innocently, holding out the candy bar to the woman behind the counter. “You didn’t say how big.”

Murphy groans, tipping his head back. Damn, that’s  _ definitely  _ his daughter. 

“You got me, kiddo,” he says. He pays for the candy bar and a package of beef jerky for himself and the woman hands Iko the bathroom key. Murphy waits for her to finish while chewing on beef jerky, listening through the door as she sings herself a little song.

“She’s a cutie,” the woman behind the counter says. “They get tricky at that age.”

“Yeah, I guess they do,” Murphy replies with a small laugh. 

“You seem like a good dad,” the woman says. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, but not quite all the way. It’s a good balance.”

“Well, I met her last night, so I should hope that it’s a good balance,” Murphy says. Before the woman can say anything else, Iko skips out of the bathroom, grabbing Murphy’s hand, and says, “Let’s go, Dad! Mom’s waiting!”

Murphy leaves the gas station with a grin.

 

* * *

 

They stop at a little diner along the highway for lunch and Iko hops into a booth across from Murphy. The bubblegum-chewing waitress says, “What’ll ya have, honey?”

“Whatever my dad’s having,” Iko replies with a brilliant smile. The waitress smiles back at her and looks at Murphy. He sees her doing mental math when she looks at him, her eyes darting to Iko. His jaw tightens a little. He looks down at the menu, sees an old favorite in the kids section, and looks back up at the waitress with a smile.

“Dinosaur chicken nuggets, please,” he says. “With extra fries.”

“I want extra fries too!” Iko says, and Murphy shakes his head, laughing. 

“No extra fries for you, kiddo.”

“I’ll get that started right away,” the waitress says. “Anything to drink?”

“Chocolate milkshake,” Murphy says. “With two straws.”

The waitress flounces off and Iko tilts her head, looking at Murphy curiously.

“What are the two straws for?” she asks. Murphy grins.

“Your mom and I used to play a game when we went to diners like this,” he explains. “We would order a milkshake with two straws and drink at the same time. The first one to get brain freeze loses.”

Iko’s eyes widen.

“I wanna play!”

She is bouncing up and down in her seat excitedly when the waitress comes by with the milkshake. Murphy makes her sit still while he puts the straws in.

“Ready?” he asks. Iko nods, her eyes bright. Murphy puts his straw in his mouth and she puts her straw in her mouth. “Okay, go!”

Iko gets brain freeze first, pulling away from the milkshake with a cry. Murphy laughs, reaching over and setting a hand on her head, smoothing out her wrinkled brow.

“It’s a tough game,” he says. She recovers quickly and grins at him.

“Let’s play again!”

By the time the waitress brings their chicken nuggets by, the milkshake has been drained and Murphy is smoothing out another one of Iko’s brain freeze frowns. The waitress sets the plates down with a bright smile and a cheerful, “Enjoy!” Iko tries to steal some of Murphy’s fries and he snatches them away, laughing, “Eat your own food first, kiddo, then we’ll talk about my fries.”

He’s halfway through eating his nuggets when it occurs to him how easily he fell into normalcy with Iko. He looks up at her. She’s munching on her fries, babbling about the diner in DC that has fries and burgers that Emori takes her to on her birthday. He smiles to himself. No wonder it feels normal.

That’s his daughter.

They get back on the road and Iko starts telling him about how she’s the best reader in the class, even with her trouble with words. This strikes a chord in Murphy.

“What trouble with words?” he asks. She shrugs, her legs swinging.

“They mix themselves up sometimes,” she says. “Mom says it’s called dyslaxia.”

“Dyslexia,” Murphy corrects. He grins at her. “I have that too.”

“Really?” Iko says, perking up. “My teacher says that I did a really good job learning how to read even though the words don’t look right sometimes. Mom helped me when I was littler.”

They stop at another diner for dinner and Murphy orders her some mac-and-cheese. She wants to play the milkshake game again, but he gently refuses, saying that she’s had enough sugar for the day. Near the end of the meal, she’s beginning to fall asleep, yawning and setting her head on the table. Murphy pays for their meal and carries her to the car, buckling her into the front seat again.

“Are we going to keep going?” Iko yawns.

“No,” Murphy says. “We’re going to stay here for the night and get back on the road tomorrow, okay?”

“Okie dokie,” Iko says, closing her eyes. Murphy laughs at her and finds a motel nearby that will give them a room for just one night. He rouses Iko and, when she doesn’t want to wake up, carries her inside. 

“I need a room for one night, preferably a double,” he says to the greasy man behind the counter. He has to set Iko down for a second to hand over his ID and pay and get the room key. “Come on, kiddo, it’s just a little further.”

Iko nods and drags her feet as she follows him down the hallway. He unlocks the door and can’t help but yawn at the sight of the twin beds. His eyes are tired from staring at the road almost all day. Before he gets ready for bed, he has Iko put on one of his old t-shirts as pajamas and brush her teeth. She crawls into the bed on the left and is snoring in seconds. He smiles at the sight and throws on boxers and his old “CHS Baseball” t-shirt and gets into bed on the right. He’s been lying there for a little while, unable to fall asleep, when he hears Iko say softly, “Dad?”

“What is it, kiddo?”

“I had a bad dream.” She sniffs. “Can I come sleep in your bed?”

His chest tightens.

“Sure, kiddo. Come here.”

The bed tips as she crawls in and she snuggles into his side. He puts one arm around her protectively and soon she’s asleep again.

He finds it easier to fall asleep with her there.

 

* * *

 

“Dad! Wake up!”

Murphy blinks against the sunlight streaming into the motel room. There’s a weight on his stomach that he can’t identify. He wonders briefly where the hell he is, then the little hand that smacks into his chest reminds him.

He has a daughter. 

They’re on an eight hundred mile drive to DC to find Emori.

She’s currently sitting on him and demanding that he wake up. 

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he says. Iko gets off of him and stands next to the bed, scowling with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You slept in,” she says in an accusatory voice. Murphy squints at the clock on the bedside table. It’s nearly nine-thirty in the morning.

“So did you,” he says defensively. She’s still wearing his old t-shirt (it hangs down to her knees), and it’s very difficult to think straight when half of his brain is taken up by how fucking  _ adorable _ she is. 

“No,” she says, but she does the same thing Emori used to when she lies - bites her lip a little. Murphy laughs.

“Okay, I’m up. We’ll get brunch and then we’ll get going again. You get dressed. I’m going to take a shower, okay?”

“A fast shower,” Iko adds, tipping her chin up and staring him down. He laughs again, ruffling her hair on his way by.

“A fast shower.”

When he gets out of the shower, Iko is dressed and sitting at the end of one of the beds, staring at a photograph. Murphy dries off his hair with a towel, peering over her shoulder.

“What are you looking at, kiddo?”

“It’s one of Mom’s old pictures,” Iko says. “She keeps this one at the bottom of the sock drawer.”

Murphy recognizes it, of course. It’s the one that used to be stuck to the wall by Emori’s bed. Raven took it, or maybe Harper. It’s him and Emori, standing in front of the movie theater. Murphy has his arm slung around Emori’s shoulders and her hands are shoved in the pockets of her jacket. They’re grinning at some long-forgotten joke that Monty told. The picture is taken from the side, showing off Emori’s complex braids. Iko runs a finger over Emori’s hair.

“Sometimes I ask Mom to braid my hair, but she’s not any good at it,” she says. “But in this picture she’s got really pretty braids.”

“I used to braid her hair,” Murphy says, touching Emori’s smile. “She couldn’t do it very well because of her hand, so I learned how to braid hair and did it for her.”

Iko gasps.

“Really? Would you braid my hair?”

Murphy laughs.

“Sure, kiddo. How do you want me to do it?”

“Like that!” Iko says, pointing at the photograph. Murphy studies the braids with a critical eye for a second and says, “Okay.”

He has Iko sit on the bed while he sits behind her and begins to comb through her hair with his fingers. She squirms with excitement, so he pokes her sides, saying, “Keep still, kiddo!” She squeals, revealing that she’s ticklish there, and they get distracted by a tickle fight for a few minutes. Finally, Iko sits still and Murphy begins to braid her hair, occasionally checking the photograph to see if he’s doing the right thing. It takes him a while, but when he’s finished, Iko hops off the bed and reaches back to run her fingers along the braids.

“What do you think?” Murphy asks. Iko turns around, beaming.

“I love them!” She jumps up into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”

Murphy laughs, hugging her back.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

By the time they get to a diner, it’s time for proper lunch, so Murphy orders a big plate of fries and a burger for them to split. Iko gets ketchup all over her face and he laughs at her, wiping it off with a napkin. She chatters throughout the whole meal, telling him about her favorite stuffed animals and her favorite apartment building stray cats and her favorite dolls and how she always has her Barbies acting out dramatic stories when she plays with them. Murphy listens with an increasing sense of awe because Emori went and raised this beautiful human being with the confidence and determination to travel eight hundred miles to find him, but also with the softness and kindness to always feed the stray cats in the neighborhood and give one of her only dolls with the little girl in her class that doesn’t have any. 

He wishes he could have been there for it all.

She falls asleep in the car that afternoon and Murphy checks the GPS. They’re only four hours out of DC. He realizes that he doesn’t want the road trip to end, he doesn’t want to leave, and he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Iko.

_ Holy shit _ .

He wants to be a dad.

Somehow, the idea doesn’t scare him.

 

* * *

 

He wakes Iko up when they reach DC. The sun is beginning to dip in the sky. Iko tells him the landmarks Emori gave her in case she ever got lost and Murphy follows her directions. They take him to an ordinary-looking brick apartment building. He swallows, looking up at the building. Iko is already clambering out of the car with her backpack. She stops when she realizes that Murphy is still sitting in the car.

“Come on, Dad,” she says. “Mom’s waiting.”

He gets out and locks the car with shaking hands. Iko reaches up and takes his hand, leading him into the building. They go up two flights of stairs and down a short hallway. Iko points out the apartment that Mrs. Brandt lives in and the one that has the nice cat. She stops in front of apartment 317. 

“This is it,” she says. Murphy gulps, staring at the door. He wonders dimly if he remembered to comb his hair that morning. Did he at least put on a non-wrinkled shirt? What if she doesn’t want to see him? What if the reason she left all those years ago was because she didn’t want to see him ever again, because she hated him-

_ “My mom says that you were funny and kind, and that you loved her a whole heck of a lot.” _

He shakes off his nerves and knocks.

The door is flung open barely a second later by a red-eyed Emori that looks like she hasn’t slept in three days. She freezes when she sees Murphy standing there, her mouth falling open.

“John…?”

“Mom!” Iko cries. “I found Dad!”

“Hi,” Murphy says. Emori blinks, then looks down at Iko, who is beaming up at her. She looks back at Murphy. He offers her a half-smile. “It’s kind of a long story.”

She crashes into him, her arms wrapping around him, and he doesn’t hesitate to return the desperate hug. She’s crying into his shoulder, saying, “I’m sorry,” over and over, but he doesn’t care, he’s too busy letting tears of his own leak out into her hair, inhaling her presence and trying to keep himself from falling apart.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. She laughs brokenly.

“I missed you too, you dumbass. I’m sorry I left.”

“I’m sorry I never tried to follow,” he says. “I’m sorry I let you leave and never came after you.”

Emori pulls back after a minute and looks down at Iko, who is watching her parent’s reunion with the biggest smile on her face.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady,” Emori says, but the words hold no bite. She crouches down and hugs their daughter. “I was so worried about you.”

“I found Dad,” Iko says proudly. “And I brought him home.”

Murphy joins the hug, pulling both of them against his chest, and swears to himself that he’ll never let either of them go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just gonna put this out here now, this is shameless fluff, full of little to no plot, it's tooth-rottingly sweet and gross and domestic
> 
> enjoy!

"Dad, Dad, wake up!”

Iko is bouncing on his chest, smacking him insistently. Murphy blinks, morning light pouring into his eyes.

“What, what is it?” he asks, nearly falling off the couch in his confusion. Iko tumbles to the floor but immediately pops back up, continuing to smack him on the chest.

“You have to get up!” she says. “Mom says so!”

“Iko,” Emori’s voice calls, a little tiredly. “Let him sleep a little while longer if he needs to.”

“Sounds like you need more sleep than me,” Murphy says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Emori smiles at him from where she’s sitting at the kitchen table in a long-sleeved sweater, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. She always drank tea in the morning. There are dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks are hollow. She also didn’t used to eat when she was stressed. Or sleep. 

“Mom said you would make me pancakes,” Iko says, crossing her arms over her chest. Murphy laughs, ruffling her hair and standing up, stretching out his back. 

“I made you pancakes the day before yesterday.”

“But not yesterday.”

“You didn’t eat breakfast yesterday. We slept in instead.”

“Please, Dad?”

She gives him the biggest puppy eyes and he shoots a look at Emori, who just smirks at him. He points an accusing finger at her, even as he moves into the kitchen to start making the pancakes.

“You taught her this,” he says. She smiles up at him and he puts one hand on the side of her face, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she says. “If you’re making Iko some chocolate chip pancakes, you’ll make some for me, too, right?”

“Of course,” he says, kissing her forehead one more time and moving to the stove. Iko runs into the kitchen and grabs an apron off a hook on the pantry door.

“This is for you!” she says, holding it out. “My class last year made them for Father’s Day, but I didn’t have anybody to give it to.”

Murphy takes the apron, staring at the clumsily printed words on the black fabric.

_ World’s Best Dad. _

“Thanks, Iko,” he says around the lump in his throat. He ruffles her hair and puts the apron over his head. Emori directs him to where the different ingredients and dishes. Iko climbs up into one of the chairs at the table and tells Emori all about their road trip. Emori listens with a patient smile, sipping her tea and occasionally making small comments on the story.

“Dad said I could have one candy bar, but he didn’t say how big.”

“Classic mistake, John,” Emori laughs.

Murphy dumps chocolate chips into the batter with a smile.

“And then we played the milkshake game! Dad’s really good at it, he won both times.”

“You didn’t even let her win?” Emori shakes her head. “How sad.”

Murphy laughs, pouring the first of the batter into the pan.

“I showed him your old picture and he braided my hair just like yours, see?”

“You lost your touch,” Emori teases, running her fingers along Iko’s braids. “Look at this, they’re already loose.”

Murphy sticks his tongue out at her, flipping over one of his pancakes.

“And I used the landmarks you gave me to find home!”

“Pancakes are ready!” Murphy says, setting a stack of pancakes in front of Emori with a kiss on her cheek. She smiles and he puts a plate with only one pancake in front of Iko as well. She scowls at it.

“Why did I only get one?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest. “Mom got a whole stack.”

“Your mom doesn’t eat when she’s worried about you,” Murphy says, raising his eyebrows at Iko. “Which she has been, very much, for the past few days. And you have school, we can’t have you bouncing off the walls.”

“Can I have one more?” Iko wheedles.

“No,” Emori says. “Eat your pancake, then go get ready for school. I already called your teacher and she’s going to give you the work that you missed over the last couple of days.”

Iko pouts for a second, but Emori wins the staring contest and Iko digs into her pancake. Murphy sits down at the table with his own stack of pancakes and Iko tries to steal one when she’s finished with hers. He snatches his plate away, laughing at her. Emori laughs as well, eating her pancakes and watching the two of them with a content smile. When Iko finishes, she gets up and stands on her toes to put her plate in the sink. Murphy notes, not for the first time, that she’s inherited the unfortunate heights of both of her parents. Emori kisses her forehead and says, “Go get ready to school, I’ll walk you to the bus.”

Iko disappears down the hall and Emori takes another sip of her tea. 

“The pancakes taste the same,” she says, smiling. “Just like when we were in high school.”

“You look the same,” Murphy replies. “Just as beautiful as the day we met.”

Emori grins, a familiar, sharp grin that makes Murphy’s chest expand with relief. No matter how much has changed in the last nine years, no matter what remains unsaid between them, they’re still the same people that fell in love on the beat up couch of the group home back in Caribou. That much hasn’t changed, at least.

Iko comes skipping out a few minutes later and says, “I want Dad to walk with us to the bus!” Murphy agrees and removes his “World’s Best Dad” apron, throwing on shoes and a jacket. Iko grabs his left hand and Emori’s right and practically drags the two of them out of the apartment building. Murphy puts his other hand in his pocket, listening as Iko chatters on about the books she’s been reading in class and the math lesson that they had the other day. When they reach the bus stop, Emori crouches down and kisses Iko’s forehead, saying, “I’ll see you after school, gumdrop.”

“Can Dad come too?”

Emori glances up at Murphy and he reads the silent question in her eyes.

_ Are you staying? _

“Yeah, kiddo,” he says, ruffling Iko’s hair. “Yeah, I’ll see you after school.”

Iko’s face breaks into a brilliant smile and Murphy knows he’s fucked. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger. He’ll never leave, not as long as she wants him to stay.

He wants to stay.

They leave Iko at the bus stop and Murphy slips his hand into Emori’s. She sighs softly, resting her head on his shoulder as they walk. There are a lot of things they need to talk about, but for now, on this short walk back to Emori’s apartment, they’re at peace. 

When they get back to the apartment, Murphy washes the breakfast dishes while Emori calls in sick to work. 

“Where do you work?” Murphy asks, scrubbing at a stubborn bit of melted chocolate on the spatula.

“A tech company,” Emori says, walking up behind him and taking the sponge and spoon from him. She scrapes off the chocolate like it’s nothing. “I went to night classes when I was pregnant with Iko, and when she was a baby, and I learned programming. Now, I write coding for all sorts of tech - computers, smartphones, tablets, and the like.”

“You always liked technology,” Murphy says with a smile and Emori snorts, her lips curving upwards. He sets down the dishes and turns to her, the two of them only centimeters apart. She inhales softly and his eyes drop to her lips. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she says, her hand running up and down his arm. “I’m sorry that I left.”

“Don’t apologize,” Murphy says. “You’re here now.”

“Because Iko did what I was too scared to do,” Emori replies, her fingers stilling at his elbow. “She went and tracked you down.”

“You raised her well.”

“I shouldn’t have raised her without you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she says, her eyes fixed on a spot somewhere on his chest. “It’s not okay. I left because I was terrified, I was terrified of being a mother, and I didn’t want to have to deal with it in the home, where I thought I’d failed everyone. I ran instead of telling you, instead of letting the others help me.”

“And I never came after you,” Murphy says, putting his hands on her face and tipping her head back so that she’s looking at him. “I let you go. I knew you were pregnant and I let you go and I never tried to find you again. I left you as much as you left me. We both made mistakes, but we’re together now.”

Emori’s lips tremble and she says, “I missed you so much.” Murphy pushes his thumbs over her cheeks gently.

“I love you,” he says. “I missed you too.”

When her lips press to his, it’s like coming home. They both melt into the kiss and Murphy presses her back into the edge of the counter. Her fingers thread through his hair and his fingers dig into her hips. She hops up onto the counter, deepening the kiss, and her legs hook around his waist. He grins against her mouth, lifting her up. She hums and he turns them around, stumbling a little on the way to her bedroom.

They spend most of the day tangled up in bed, relearning each other. On the occasions during the day that they talk, Emori tells Murphy about her job and Iko’s school and their life in DC and he tells her about his life back in Caribou. She seems to be amused by the idea that he is a librarian. 

“What else did you think I would do?” he laughs, running his hands along her sides. She shrugs, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

“I wasn’t sure. I imagined a lot of things that you might have been doing. I don’t think librarian was on the list, though.”

An alarm goes off around three and Emori sleepily lifts her head off Murphy’s chest. She fell asleep there around two and he has been letting her sleep, knowing that she is exhausted.

“Iko’s bus is going to be at the stop in twenty minutes,” she yawns. “We should leave now to get there in time.”

“You should get dressed, then,” Murphy says with a cheeky grin. She smacks him half-heartedly on the chest and rolls out of bed, picking up her jeans and pulling them on. She meets him in the doorway, twisting their hands together at her sides and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Missed you,” she says. Murphy smiles.

“Missed you too.”

Iko runs off the bus and tackles Murphy with a hug, saying, “I knew you would stay, I knew it!” He laughs, squeezing her until she squeals, and says, “Of course I’m staying, kiddo.”

“Come on, gumdrop,” Emori laughs, holding out her hand. “Let’s go home.”

Iko takes Emori’s hand and grabs Murphy’s and they walk back to the apartment together. Murphy can’t help but smile as she chatters about her day at school and all the homework she has to do to make up for the days she missed and Emori laughs at her funny stories about her classmates. 

They’re his family. He has a family.

 

* * *

 

He stays another night in DC, this time in Emori’s bed instead of on the couch. Winter break for Iko begins the following Monday, so Emori agrees to all three of them going up to Maine together. Iko is very excited by the prospect of a second road trip and immediately runs to her room to pack a backpack. Emori calls into work and explains the circumstances, apologizing for the short notice (turns out she does have a phone, Iko is just a little trickster). Murphy calls into his work and submits his two day’s notice, then calls his landlord and informs him that he’s moving out. He’s moving to DC. 

He’ll have to get a job in DC.

He’s going to be living with his family.

The whole prospect makes him giddy. 

They set out very early in the morning to cover more ground, the three of them piled into Murphy’s car. Iko isn’t happy about being demoted to the backseat, but she’s fallen asleep and is snoring within a couple of hours. Murphy and Emori spend the entire first day of the drive talking about the past nine years and what they’ve done. When Iko wakes up, Murphy listens to her stories about school and holidays and her favorite park to visit. Emori surprises Murphy by pulling out a photo album and saying, “I’ll show you this once you’ve stopped driving.”

Murphy has never been more excited to stop driving.

He has to carry Iko to the motel room that they get for the night because she has fallen asleep and refuses to wake up, only grumbling when he tries. Emori just shrugs and says, “She likes her sleep. She gets that from you.”

“Am I ever this difficult?” Murphy asks, lifting Iko out of the car. Emori gives him a sharp smile.

“Do you really want me to answer that, John?”

“Nope,” he says, slinging Iko’s backpack over his shoulder. When they get to the room, he wakes Iko up and makes her put on her pajamas and brush her teeth. Emori tucks her in and hums a lullaby until she’s snoring again. She then sits on the edge of the other bed and takes out the photo album. Murphy jumps onto the bed next to her and she flips it open.

“When I first moved out to DC, I was living in a women’s shelter,” she explains. “One of the women that worked there helped me out. She took pictures of all the women that lived there. I moved into my apartment three weeks before Iko was born, and on that day, she gave me the pictures she’d taken of me and this photo album.” She laughs, pointing at the photos. “You finally get to see me pregnant.” 

She’s not smiling in the first ones, and instead looks miserable, her eyes often red. As the pictures progress in time, her stomach bubbles out with the baby that’s sleeping just a few feet away. The sadness in her eyes recedes a little, until the last few pictures, when she’s grinning ear-to-ear, her hands resting on her belly. Murphy sets his fingers on the “month nine” picture and tries to imagine what it might have been like to put his hand on Emori’s belly and feel Iko kicking against his palm. Emori turns the page.

“There she is on the day she was born,” Emori says, pointing at a picture of a tiny baby girl. “She was two weeks early and so tiny, you wouldn’t have believed it, John. I was so worried that she wouldn’t be healthy, but she was, she was so beautiful.” She points at another picture of Iko resting on Emori’s chest, Emori’s smile brighter than the sun. “She used to pull my hair while she ate, all the time. It drove me nuts, I always thought about cutting it, but she would cry if she couldn’t pull on it.” She points at another picture of her with Iko, Iko dressed up in a little red Christmas dress and Emori in that green sweater that Murphy got her their sophomore year. “That’s her first Christmas. She threw up on Santa’s lap.”

Murphy laughs, touching the picture. Emori turns the page.

“Her first steps,” she says, pointing at a picture of a brilliantly grinning baby Iko, standing on her two legs, holding an apple. “She wanted a fruit from the bowl and decided that she was going to get it no matter what, even if that meant walking.” Murphy’s chest contracts as Emori continues, pointing at another picture. “There she is on her birthday; she threw cake all over my sweater, the little troublemaker.” Murphy touches another picture of Iko sitting in the snow, throwing it in the air gleefully with her little hands. Emori turns the page. “The first time I took her to the Lincoln Memorial. She wanted to climb the statue, kept saying, ‘Big man, big man!’ You should have seen her, John, she was quite the little troublemaker. Just like you.”

Murphy presses one hand to his mouth, tears running over his fingers. 

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, and Emori turns to him, surprised. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says, setting her hand on his cheek. “It’s not your fault, John.”

“I should have tried,” he says. “I gave up on you. I should have tried.”

She wraps her arms around him and he clutches her to him, wishing that he had just said “fuck it” and gone after her all those years ago. He could have watched his daughter grow up. He could have watched her grow up but instead he was in Maine, feeling sorry for himself. What an idiot he was.

“Do you want to look at the rest of the pictures?” Emori asks. Murphy nods, and she lets go, settling between his legs, leaning against his chest, and reopening the photo album. He rests his chin on the top of her head and watches Iko grow up in photographs.

It’s enough.

 

* * *

 

Iko immediately runs to the couch when they reach Murphy’s apartment and picks up the blanket still sitting there, saying, “Dad, I’ll sleep on the couch again!”

“That’s nonsense,” Murphy says, chasing after her. He scoops her up and she shrieks with laughter. “You’ll sleep in bed with me and your mom.”

“John,” Emori says, shaking her head with a smile. “Is your bed big enough for all three of us?”

“We’ll fit,” Murphy replies. “Come on, Iko, to bed with you.”

He carries her into the bedroom and tells her to put on her pajamas. He goes back out into the living room and finds Emori sitting at the kitchen counter, running her fingers over the countertop and staring at the picture of him and Bellamy and Clarke that they had insisted on taking at his graduation from community college. Next to it are pictures of Harper and Miller and Murphy at the Dropship, the local bar, from the nights they won trivia.

“You have a life here,” she says softly. He shrugs.

“I have a daughter in DC,” he replies. “I think that trumps drinking terrible beer with Bellamy and Clarke on Saturday nights and lame-ass trivia with Harper and Miller on Sunday nights. Besides, we always talked about getting away from this shitty town and going somewhere better.”

“That’s true,” Emori sighs. “But be honest, John. Will you be happier there? Will it be home?”

“Of course,” he says, taking her hand. He lifts it to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “My home is wherever you are.”

“Sap,” she says, but she’s smiling and when he kisses her, she winds her arms around his neck and pulls him down into her.

“Gross!” Iko says. Murphy pulls away from Emori, laughing. Iko is standing in the doorway to the bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl fixed on her face. 

“Come on, gumdrop, it’s time for bed,” Emori says. As she leads Iko into the bedroom, Murphy hears Iko say, “Mom, that’s gross.” He laughs and heads for the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush. Emori slips in after a minute with her toothbrush, already scrubbing at her teeth.

“Iko’s in bed,” she says, spitting some toothpaste into the sink. “She’s taking up as much room as possible. I think her plan is to keep us from kissing again.”

Murphy laughs.

“Bellamy would like her,” he says. “Remember when he used to sit down in between us on the couch?”

“Oh yeah, and when he banned sex in the house?”

“What a hypocrite,” Murphy says, shaking his head. “He and Clarke are married now. They’re still running the group home.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Emori says, rinsing out her toothbrush. “Where is everyone from the old home?”

“Monty and Jasper live down south, in Augusta,” Murphy says, sticking his toothbrush in the holder and leaning against the sink. “They have a smoothie shop. Raven’s working at NASA. She got her PhD and is working on a second. She still sends a Christmas card, usually with a picture of her in front of some spaceship or another, really likes to rub it in my face. Harper is still in town, she teaches kindergarten. Miller’s the chief of police.”

“They’re all doing well,” Emori says, leaning against the sink with him. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“We should go say hi to Bellamy and Clarke tomorrow,” Murphy says suddenly, an idea springing to life in his mind. “They never found out what happened to you.”

“What did everyone think happened to me?” Emori asks, laughing a little, but then she sees the look on Murphy’s face. “John…”

“The rumors were all bad,” he says. “Some people said you went to another state to get an abortion. Some people said you did it yourself. A lot of people said you were dead. Some people said you went back to California, to Baylis’s old gang. Most people thought you were dead.”

“Well,” Emori says, her hands slipping under his shirt. “That’s all very dramatic. Nobody thought that I would keep the baby?”

“Everyone said that you left because you didn’t want to keep it.”

“And what about you?” she asks, tipping her head to the side. He can’t look away from the gold flecks in her eyes. “What did you think happened to me?”

He swallows. Her fingers press into his sides.

“I wasn’t sure,” he admits. “I honestly didn’t know, and that killed me more than anything. I didn’t know where you had gone and I couldn’t think what you would do. After a year, I started to believe the rumors that you were dead. I guess it was easier than blaming myself for you hating me so much that you wouldn’t come back.”

“I didn’t hate you,” Emori says, wrapping her arms around him. “I was afraid that I’d let everyone down. And then Iko was born… and suddenly I was a part of something much bigger than myself. Her. And I built a life in DC. I had a few friends from the shelter, I had a job, I had been taking night classes - I couldn’t uproot all of that and go back to Maine. Besides, by then, I thought you probably never wanted to see me again. I left so suddenly, without even saying goodbye; I figured there was nothing waiting for me in Caribou.”

“I was,” Murphy says, burying his face in her hair. “I would wait forever for you.”

Iko is, indeed, sleeping in the center of the bed, taking up as much space as possible, when they return to the bedroom. Murphy shifts her over a little and gets into bed on one side of her. Emori does the same on the other side. Iko stirs.

“Mom? Dad?”

“We’re here,” Emori says, wrapping her arms around Iko. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Iko says sleepily. Murphy scoots over and curls himself around the two of them protectively. They fall asleep that way, curled up with each other, like a family.

 

* * *

 

Iko is still sleeping when Murphy gets up to take a shower. Emori is sleeping as well, snoring softly in time with Iko. Murphy kisses her forehead and she murmurs something in her sleep.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he whispers. “I love you.”

She shifts a little, the ghost of a smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards. Murphy smiles and heads for the bathroom. He turns on the water early, knowing it will take a minute to get warm. He yawns once and strips off his shirt. The bathroom door creaks open and he turns around, surprised, his shirt in his hands. Emori slips in, her hair mussed from sleeping on it and her sleep shirt slipping off one shoulder. She smiles sleepily at him.

“Mind sharing the shower?” she asks. Murphy smirks, even as his pulse skips.

“Never, as long as it’s with you.”

“Iko’s still asleep,” she says, stepping closer and winding her arms around his neck. “Snoring away.”

“She gets it from you,” he laughs, slipping his hands under her sleep shirt. He quirks one eyebrow at her. “The water should be warm by now.”

She smirks right back and steps back from him, pulling the shirt over her head smoothly. Murphy finishes stripping off his pajamas and steps into the shower. She follows right behind and pushes him into the wall, winding her arms around his neck again. He grins against her lips and she leans against him, pinning him to the wall with her weight.

The water is cold by the time they get out.

 

* * *

 

The old group home looks almost the same, even after a decade. The same porch swing, the same painted white shutters and creaking hinges. Murphy grins at Emori, letting go of her hand, and knocks on the door.

It’s opened after a few minutes by a young girl with dark hair, chewing bubblegum. She looks Murphy up and down, then Emori.

“Clarke!” she calls. “There’s people at the door for you!”

The girl walks off and Clarke’s irritated voice echoes from inside the house. 

“Madi, just because you don’t want to talk to the Mormons does not mean that you have to pass them off to me, it’s not polite!”

She appears in the doorway, still calling over her shoulder at the girl, Madi. Her hair is cut shorter, with a few red streaks in it. She turns around and freezes.

“Murphy?” Her eyes travel to the woman standing next to him and her entire face lights up. “Emori!”

“Hey,” Emori says, shoving her hands into her pockets. Clarke laughs and rushes forward, pulling Emori into a tight hug.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s been so long. Where have you been?”

“DC,” Emori replies, returning the hug. “A lot has happened in the last nine years.”

“Dad,” Iko whines, tugging on his sleeve. “I wanna say hi to Clarke!”

Murphy sees Clarke’s eyes widen comically at the sound of Iko’s voice and snorts, reaching down and patting her head.

“You can say hi, kiddo. Nobody’s stopping you.”

“Hi!” Iko says, waving at Clarke. Clarke stares down at her for a minute, then looks up at Emori. 

“Clarke, this is Iko,” Emori says. “She’s eight.”

“Mom told me lots about you,” Iko says to Clarke. She tips her head. “But you cut your hair. It looks different from the picture Mom hides at the bottom of the sock drawer.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows and looks at Murphy. 

“She’s definitely yours,” she says, and Murphy discreetly flips her off. Clarke just laughs and invites them in. The dark-haired girl, Madi, is sitting on the couch, still chewing bubblegum, and frowning at the sketchbook in her hands. Clarke pats her on the head and says, “Go find Bellamy for me, please.” The girl rolls her eyes but gets off the couch, yelling, “Bellamy! There’s people here!”

“So,” Clarke says, sitting down at the kitchen table. Emori sits with Iko in her lap and Murphy leans against the counter. “What’s been going on for the past nine years?”

“I’m living down in DC,” Emori says. “I work at a tech company there. Iko is eight, she’s in third grade, and she’s a complete troublemaker.”

“Sounds like she takes after her parents,” Clarke laughs. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Emori!” Bellamy cries, entering the kitchen with an enormous grin. “Holy sh-” His gaze snags on Iko. “-shirts. Holy shirts. Holy shirts! Where the he- heck have you been?”

“DC.” Emori laughs. “I thought curse words were banned in the house.”

“They are,” Bellamy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t say any curse words.”

“You’re Bellamy!” Iko says, bouncing excitedly in Emori’s lap. Bellamy smiles at her.

“I am. What’s your name, kiddo?”

“I’m Iko and I came all the way here by myself to find my dad,” Iko says proudly. Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline and he looks up at Murphy, who just grins.

“It’s true,” Emori says. “She disappeared one morning along with all the cash I kept under my mattress and showed up again four days later with John in tow.”

“She came to my door and just said, ‘You’re my dad!’” Murphy says, ruffling Iko’s hair. “We went on a little road trip to get her home.”

“She’s definitely your kid,” Clarke snorts. “That’s such a Murphy and Emori thing to do.”

Iko beams. “Thank you.”

They stay for dinner and Clarke and Bellamy invite Harper and Miller over. Harper immediately introduces herself to Iko and braids her hair. Murphy thinks that Iko might faint from excitement when Miller offers her a piggyback ride. 

“Do you want to see your parents’ old rooms?” Bellamy asks. Iko’s eyes widen and she nods vigorously. “Follow me, kid.”

Murphy and Emori follow as well, curious about their old rooms. Iko jumps up and down on Emori’s old bed (which is Madi’s now) and stands on her toes to peer out the window in Murphy’s old room (which now belongs to a young boy named Ethan). Not much has changed - Murphy notes that Bellamy never fixed the creaking hinges on his door and mentions it to Bellamy. Bellamy just shrugs.

“It made it easy to tell when you were sneaking out of your room to go visit Emori’s,” he says with a grin. “That way I could enforce the no-sex-in-the-house rule.”

“Yeah, that clearly worked,” Murphy says, gesturing at Iko, who is telling Harper about the pictures Emori keeps around the apartment back in DC. 

“I’m not an idiot, Murphy,” Bellamy snorts. “I know you two didn’t just do it in the house.”

Iko falls asleep at the kitchen table and Murphy and Emori bid farewell to their old friends, leaving them with Emori’s new address and a promise to keep in touch. Murphy carries Iko to the car and drives back to his apartment with heavy eyelids. Emori leans on him and Iko snores against his shoulder as they head up to the apartment. 

“I’ll pack tomorrow,” Murphy yawns, unlocking the door. “Then we can start heading back to DC.”

“Mmhm,” Emori says, her head resting on his shoulder. “Tomorrow.”

They all fall asleep fully dressed, but curled around each other.

 

* * *

 

It takes another day to pack up Murphy’s small apartment, then another two to drive back to DC. Iko is more than eager to help move Murphy’s boxes of stuff into their apartment, struggling to hold them up. Murphy gives her the littlest boxes to carry and she carries them with her head high, telling everyone she passes that her dad is going to live with her and her mom. Murphy laughs at her as he follows, carrying the heavier boxes that are too heavy for her.

Emori insists on unpacking immediately, saying that it will make decorating the apartment for Christmas much easier. Murphy groans and complains but ultimately agrees, pulling his things out of the boxes. Emori makes room for him in the closet and the drawers of her bedroom. While moving things out of the way, he finds the pictures that Iko told him about, the old ones that she used to have stuck to the walls in her old room at the group home. He sticks them in his back pocket for safekeeping and tosses his clothes into the drawers. Emori laughs at him and takes them all out and folds them before she puts them back in, teasing him about being messy.

Once he’s unpacked all of his clothes, he puts his mug that Emori got him their junior year in the cabinet. There’s a cartoon cat on it, with the words, “Your cat knows exactly how you feel. He doesn’t give a damn, but he knows.” Emori crossed out the words “your cat” and replaced them with “John.”

“You still have that?” Emori laughs, wrapping her arms around his waist. She rests her chin on his shoulder. Murphy laughs.

“Of course I do. It’s one of my favorite things that you ever gave me.”

“I still have the mug you gave me,” Emori says, reaching past him into the cabinet. She takes it down from the shelf and Murphy laughs. The mug he gave her reads, “Knife Wife” and has a switchblade painted on it. “It’s one of my favorite things that you ever gave me.”

“What’s your favorite?” Murphy asks. Emori turns to look at Iko, who is standing on her toes and rinsing out her cereal bowl in the sink. She smiles.

“She is.”

 

* * *

 

They decorate the apartment for Christmas the next day, stringing up colored lights and garlands and decorations. Iko informs Murphy in her matter-of-fact way where everything goes. There’s a wooden Santa that goes on the shelf above their fake fireplace in the living room and the fake tree gets set up in the corner. Iko bosses him around while putting the decorations on the tree, directing him on where the ornaments on the highest branches should go. Emori laughs at them while putting up the lights around the apartment, on her toes on a short stepladder. Once the tree has been decorated, she brings the stepladder over and hands Murphy the star for the top of the tree.

“Since it’s your first Christmas here with us, I think you should be the one to put the tree topper on,” she says, fiddling with the plug for the lights of the star. “Iko likes to do it, but she and I agreed earlier that you should.”

Murphy’s chest swells and he takes the star from her, stepping up onto the stepladder. He plugs in the lights and the star glows in his hands. He carefully settles it on top of the tree and Iko and Emori cheer. He gives a little bow with a flourish of his hands. 

“The tree has been starred,” he says dramatically. Iko jumps up into his arms and plants a big kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Dad!” she says. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

“Me too, kiddo,” he laughs. 

He makes cookies for them in the shape of snowmen. Iko helps him decorate them and ends up with a smear of frosting on the tip of her nose, her brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully arranges sprinkles and candy in little faces on the snowmen. Emori is in charge of mixing more frosting, flicking bits of it at Murphy when he’s not paying attention. He smiles at both of them, laughing at Iko’s antics with the snowmen faces and Emori’s exasperation with the old mixer that overheats and stops when she uses it at too high a speed. Iko keeps giving the snowmen varied and quirky faces - one scowling and angry, one with an over exaggerated frown and tears running down its face, one with a laughing smile, one rolling its eyes, one making a face that reminds Murphy of Emori’s exasperated expression over the frosting.

Iko insists on watching a Christmas film snuggled up on the couch with both of them. Murphy makes popcorn and Emori puts in  _ The Polar Express _ . Iko falls asleep at the forty-five minute mark and Murphy carries her to bed. Emori curls into his side when they are together in bed and Murphy thinks about the little home he’s found. He remembers the mugs that he and Emori have - Emori’s joke about him and his joke about her.  _ Knife Wife. _

He jolts a little at the thought of her being his wife. 

His lips curl in a smile at the thought of asking her to be his wife.

He’ll have to make a plan, of course. Buy a ring. Get a job to pay for the ring. Pick a good time to ask her. Decide on the perfect way to ask her. 

She murmurs something in her sleep and curls against him, her head tucking into his shoulder. He can decide on the details in the morning. He doesn’t need to have everything decided right away. He turns his head so that his face is buried in her hair and falls asleep that way. 

The next morning, he submits his resume to every library in the city and surrounding metropolitan area. While out on this errand, he stops at a jeweler. The smiling woman there hovers around him until he politely tells her to stop being creepy and following him around. He squints at the rings under the glass of the display case. The ones being most prominently displayed are too flashy, too brightly glittering with too many shiny jewels. They’re nothing like Emori, who’s quietly beautiful in a way that took him by surprise in the kitchen of the group home one night. He searches the case for something simpler, something that she’ll love. 

“Need any help?” a familiar voice says from behind him. Murphy whirls around and his mouth drops open at the sight of the young woman standing behind him. Raven grins at him, her hands shoved in the pockets of her red leather jacket. 

“What the fuck?” he says, giving her a quick hug. “I thought you were at Kennedy, working on that rocket or some shit.”

“I got the week off and a call from Clarke saying that you’d moved in with Emori in DC,” Raven laughs. “I figured it was worth the drive to see her. It’s been what, nine years?”

“Nine years,” Murphy says. “You’ll never guess how I found out where she lived.”

“Facebook stalking?”

“Our daughter showed up on my doorstep after finding my address somehow and I went on a road trip to get her home.”

Raven raises her eyebrows. 

“Seems like something your kid would do.” She peers over Murphy’s shoulder at the display case of engagement rings behind him. “I was wondering what your shitty car was doing in front of a jewelry store. It’s a little late for a shotgun wedding, don’t you think?”

“Fuck off,” Murphy mutters, turning back to the rings. “I’m trying to think.”

“Well, good luck with that. Don’t tire out the hamsters on their wheels. Is Emori home? Clarke gave me your guys’s address.”

“No, she and Iko are at the women’s shelter on 4th, wrapping presents for the fundraiser.”

“Cool, I’ll drop by there. You sure you don’t want any help?”

“I’m alright. Iko will probably faint with excitement when she sees you. She’s already fangirled over the others from the old gang. Emori has all her old pictures of all of us and Iko apparently got told all sorts of stories about the shenanigans that went down in that house.”

“Nice,” Raven says. “Well, I’ll see you tonight. I plan on staying for dinner.”

Murphy snorts.

“Of course you do. Don’t tell Emori where I am.”

“You know,” Raven says, backing out of the store with a shit-eating grin, “keeping secrets isn’t the best way to start a marriage.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

 

* * *

 

Murphy finds the perfect ring at the fifth jewelry store he tries. It’s beginning to get late and Emori has already texted him, telling him that Raven is at the apartment for dinner, listening to Iko’s stories about the road trip. He has his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the rings listlessly. Three of them he saw at the last store. Four of them have been at every store. He’s ready to give up and go home and save the search for another day when a soft glint catches his eye. 

The ring is simple, inlaid with a single diamond that doesn’t flash much when he cranes his neck. The band is a silvery gold color that he can’t quite place.

It’s perfect.

“Sir,” he says to the man behind the case. “What’s this one?”

The man wrinkles his nose a little.

“That one? It’s an old-fashioned design, one that we’ve been trying to get rid of for weeks. Single diamond, not many carats. The band is white gold, but white gold went out of style  _ ages _ ago. If I may suggest one of our more popular-”

“I want this one,” Murphy insists. “How much?”

 

* * *

 

Raven is sitting on the counter when he gets home, the ring hidden at the bottom of his pocket and an unkillable grin on his face. Raven gives him a knowing look while regaling Emori and a starstruck Iko with the tale of her latest space mission.

“And when I got up to the space station, you could see the whole earth from the windows,” she says to Iko, who gasps. 

“The  _ whole  _ thing?”

“The whole thing.” Raven nods solemnly. “We took some pretty cool pictures from up there.”

Iko turns to Murphy with wide eyes.

“Dad, aunt Raven’s been to  _ space _ .”

He shoots a look at Raven.

“Aunt Raven?”

“She’s the one who keeps saying it. Not my fault I give great suggestions.”

Iko jumps down from her chair and Murphy catches her when she throws herself at him, lifting her up in the tight hug. He kisses the side of her head.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Welcome home, Dad,” she says, hugging him tightly. “Did you find a library with nice people?”

“I found a couple, yeah,” he replies, setting her down. “I think it’s going to be good. I think I’m going to hear back from a couple of them soon.”

“And why shouldn’t you?” Emori says, walking over. Murphy smiles at her and sets a hand on her waist, pressing a kiss to her lips and then her forehead. “You worked at that library in Caribou for what, eleven years? You have plenty of experience for someone so young.”

“I don’t know if they care about my high school job shelving books,” Murphy says, amused.

“Of course they do,” Emori snorts. “It’s experience, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, they’ll be super excited to have such an  _ experienced _ guy working for them,” Raven says cheekily, and Murphy flips her off behind his back. Emori laughs and says, “I haven’t made anything for dinner yet. I figured you would want to, John.”

“Of course,” Murphy says, shoving Raven off the counter and reaching into the cabinet she had been sitting in front of. “I have to make Iko some macaroni and cheese.”

Iko’s eyes go as big as saucers. Emori told Murphy during the drive back to DC, on one of the nights when Iko was asleep in the backseat, that her favorite food was macaroni and cheese.

“Mac and cheese?” Iko gasps. She starts jumping up and down, running over to Murphy and hugging his legs. “Yes! Thank you, Dad! Mac and cheese!”

Murphy laughs and shakes her off, sliding the heavy pot out of the cupboard. Iko runs to Raven, who has taken a seat at the kitchen table, and says, “Aunt Raven, Dad’s gonna make mac and cheese!”

“Is that your favorite?” Raven asks. 

“Yes! It’s my favorite in the whole wide world!”

“Murphy, don’t ruin her favorite in the whole wide world for her,” Raven says. Murphy represses a long sigh.

“You know, Raven, I missed you too.”

“I’m here for Emori, not your grumpy ass, you know that.”

“Watch your fucking mouth around my kid.”

“Mom swears around me all the time,” Iko says, very seriously. “She says I’m not supposed to say the words that she does until I’m older because the other kids’ parents have sticks up their butts.”

Murphy bursts into laughter, clutching the edge of the counter. Emori picks Iko up and kisses her cheek, saying, “That’s absolutely right, gumdrop.” 

“God, I love you so much,” he says. Emori grins at him, setting Iko down. The ring in his pocket feels heavier when she smiles at him like that.

Raven pretends to puke into the trash can and Murphy flips her off again.

Iko gets up on her toes on the stepstool to peer into the pot of macaroni and cheese once Murphy is almost finished with it. She frowns and looks up at him.

“This looks different from how Mom does it,” she says. 

“That’s because your mom makes it out of a box,” Murphy says. Emori rolls her eyes at his tone. “I make  _ my  _ macaroni and cheese from scratch. That’s why it’s so delicious.”

Iko turns and eyes Emori with distrust.

“Out of a box?” she asks, like Murphy told her that Emori makes it with ingredients from the trash. Emori sighs overdramatically with defeat.

“Yes, out of a box, I’m not a very good cook.”

“Shameful,” Murphy says, shaking his head.

“Shameful,” Iko agrees, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. Emori laughs at the two of them and Raven says, “Murphy, you can’t just turn her against her mom like that. It’s not fair!”

“Dad makes it from scratch,” Iko informs her, sitting down at the table. “That’s why it’s so delicious.”

“You haven’t tried it yet,” Raven points out.

“Doesn’t matter,” Iko replies. “It’s gonna be delicious.”

Murphy laughs and dumps some crushed bacon into the macaroni and cheese, stirring it in. Raven, Emori, and Iko keep talking a little while longer while he finishes the cooking. He adds a bit of broccoli to the mix and turns off the stove, saying over his shoulder, “Iko, why don’t you get some bowls for everyone?” Iko gasps and runs to the cabinet, grabbing four bowls and carrying them to the table. Emori helps her set them in front of all of the chairs and has her get forks for everyone as well. Murphy walks over with the pot of macaroni and cheese and starts to dish it out into each of the bowls. Iko bounces in her seat until Murphy ruffles her hair and scoops a helping of macaroni into her bowl.

“Don’t eat it too fast, it’s hot,” he says. Iko carefully blows on the forkful of macaroni and shoves it in her mouth. Murphy laughs.

“It’s amazing,” Iko declares, preparing another forkful of macaroni. “Dad makes the best mac and cheese.”

“Of course I do,” Murphy says, setting the pot on the stove again. He takes his seat at the table and listens to Raven’s space stories and Iko’s explanation of her favorite Christmas films and traditions and Emori’s funny stories of the years she’s lived in DC for Raven. After dinner, Emori shows Raven the photo album of Iko while Iko and Murphy play with Iko’s dolls by the Christmas tree. Raven bids them goodbye at almost ten, when Iko is asleep in Murphy’s lap and Emori has her head on his shoulder. He carries Iko to bed while Emori takes a shower. Iko stirs as he’s tucking her under the covers.

“Dad?” she asks sleepily.

“What is it, kiddo?”

“What’s this?” She holds up the ring.

Murphy chokes.

“Is it for Mom?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking it back from her. “Yeah, it’s a Christmas present for Mom, so you can’t tell her about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Iko agrees, snuggling into her pillow. Murphy wonders where she got the ring in the first place. Emori must have taught her how to pick pockets. He slips it into his pocket again, into the little hole in the pocket that Miller half-jokingly said would be a good hiding place for weed. Murphy laughed a little too hard at that joke and ended up chugging his beer to avoid Miller’s suspicious gaze. 

Emori is still in the shower when he gets back to their bedroom, so he hides the ring in the lampshade of his bedside lamp. When she comes out of the bathroom, he’s sitting innocently in bed, reading a book. She wrings out her hair on his lap and lays her legs over his, resting her wet hair on the pillow. He laughs at her, closing the book and pushing her legs off his, rolling over on top of her. 

“Why are you like this?” he asks jokingly, leaning down to kiss her. She strings her fingers through his hair and says, “Because I love you.” He rolls his eyes and she pushes him off her, straddling him and pressing him into the mattress. He grins up at her and she grins down at him.

They don’t get much sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

Christmas Eve is upon them before they know it, finding Iko singing off-key Christmas carols with the radio (Murphy insists that she got her off-key singing from Emori, because he  _ certainly _ doesn’t sound like that when he sings) and Emori setting out a plate of cookies for “Santa” with carrots for the “reindeers.” This is apparently a tradition that Iko insists on. Murphy is in the kitchen, making dinner. Iko occasionally wanders into the kitchen while singing along to the radio, leading Murphy to grab her hands and dance her around the kitchen while she stands on his toes. He spins her under his arm to send her to Emori, who will pick her up and have her inspect the Christmas tree ornaments for any flaws. After all, everything has to be perfect for Santa.

“How is Santa going to get into the apartment if we don’t have a real chimney?” Murphy asks, stirring the potatoes. 

“He’s going to come through the front door,” Iko says, like it’s obvious. She rolls her eyes at him. “ _ Duh,  _ Dad.”

“Oh, sorry,” Murphy says sardonically. “My mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Iko says, climbing into her chair at the kitchen table. “You’re new. You’ll learn.”

Murphy laughs at her, thinking that she maybe got a little  _ too _ much sarcasm from her parents.

After dinner, Emori makes Iko go straight to bed, saying, “You have to be asleep for Santa to come!” Once the soft sound of snores can be heard from Iko’s room, Murphy and Emori get the presents out of the closet and set them out around the tree. Murphy went out shopping after getting his last paycheck from the Caribou library in the mail and a new job at the library in Arlington. He bought Emori new gloves after noticing that hers have holes in them, a sweater, and boots after seeing that she was beginning to wear through the soles of her favorite ones. For Iko he got a new doll, a funny Christmas sweater that should still fit her in a year, and an apron with pockets for different kitchen utensils that he found at a handmade-goods fundraiser. 

The ring he put in a small box, which he then put in a slightly bigger box, which he then put in a slightly bigger box, which he then put in a slightly bigger box, which he wrapped with sort-of plain paper. He puts in the very back corner by another small one that Emori placed there. 

When they’re finished putting the presents under the tree, they eat the cookies and Murphy cuts up the carrots for the stew he’s going to make for dinner. When they’ve finished with that, they crawl into bed and fall asleep curled around each other. They’re woken by Iko jumping up and down on the end of the bed and shrieking, “Presents! Wake up wake up wake up! It’s Christmas!”

“I’m awake,” Murphy says groggily. “I’m awake, I promise. What is it?”

“She wants to open presents,” Emori murmurs, turning her face into the pillow. “Five minutes, Iko.”

“But Mom, it’s Christmas!”

“I’ll get up,” Murphy says, and Emori mutters, “Traitor.” He laughs, kissing her cheek, and heads to the kitchen, starting on a batch of chocolate chip pancakes. He tosses a bit of crushed candy cane in as well while Iko inspects the packages under the tree, informing Murphy about the dimensions and approximate weights of each one, as well as who they’re intended for.

She measures weight in frogs, a fact that Murphy finds endlessly amusing.

“This one’s for Mom,” she says, picking up the box that contains the ring. She gives it an experimental shake and nods solemnly. “About a quarter of a frog.”

“Do you know what a quarter is?”

“Twenty-five cents.”

Murphy laughs. As he’s sliding pancakes onto a plate for her, Emori wanders out of the bedroom, yawning and running her fingers through her hair. She smiles when she sees the pancakes.

“That’s a breakfast specialty in this house, it seems,” she says, taking her seat at the table. Iko jumps up into her chair, having inspected the presents under the tree to her satisfaction. Murphy sets three pancakes on Iko’s plate and ruffles her hair on his way by, setting the syrup on the table. Emori pours the syrup for Iko, who scarfs down her pancakes with an unmatched vigor in her excitement to open presents. 

“Slow down, gumdrop, you’ll give yourself hiccups,” Emori says, eating her pancakes slowly. Murphy laughs at Iko’s scowl, but the little girl heeds her mother’s advice.

Iko begs Murphy to eat faster when he’s the only one left eating, so he eats even slower, just to be annoying. She’s dragging him out of his seat by the time he’s finished.

“Come on come on come on!” she shouts, dragging him towards the tree. Murphy relents and sits on the couch where she positions him. Emori flops on his lap. 

“We take turns,” Iko informs Murphy, picking up the first present. “Me first, then Mom, then you. I have more presents than you and Mom, so I open mine until we all have the same number, and then we’ll take real turns.”

“Okay,” Murphy says. Iko busily sorts out the presents, making little piles in front of each person of the presents for them. When she’s finished with that, she waits for Emori to get her camera, then starts to open presents. Emori takes pictures of each one. She has three from Murphy and three from Emori and opens three before they begin taking “real turns.” The first one she opens is the new doll that Murphy got her. She reaches for the box that contains the apron next and Murphy says, “That one last, kiddo.” She frowns but picks a different package, this one containing a new pair of mittens from Emori. The third 

“Mom’s turn!” Iko cries, turning to Emori. Murphy takes the camera, taking a picture of Emori’s laugh as she picks out one of the presents that he got for her. It’s the boots, and she smiles softly when she sees them, feeling the thickness of the sole. 

Emori insists that Murphy open the smallest box last when he tries to open it first. In the other three packages from her, he finds new oven mitts and potholders, a brand-new copy of his favorite book, and a cookbook made by her of both of their favorite recipes, with some input from Iko. Finally, they get back around to Emori, who turns to Murphy with the small box with the ring in it in her lap. He’s holding the smallest one in his.

“I want you to open that one first,” she says, her eyes twinkling. He shakes his head.

“Nope, you have to open yours first.”

“No, you first.”

“I insist.”

“Open them at the same time!” Iko says, glaring at them impatiently. She’s opened all of her presents already and is sitting in a nest of wrapping and tissue paper, her arms crossed over her chest. She pulled on the sweater that Murphy got her the second she took it out of the box. It’s a little oversized on her now. The camera is sitting in her lap. She rather looks like an angry Christmas bird that hasn’t yet grown into its wings. 

“Fine,” Emori laughs, pulling the bow off of the box. “We’ll open them at the same time.”

Murphy takes off the bow on his box, watching Emori’s face as she realizes that the box contains a smaller box. She rolls her eyes at him and begins to open the nesting boxes. She stops after a second, looking at him.

“You’re not opening yours,” she says. He rips off the wrapping paper and she says, “Is this the last box?”

“Yes.”

“On three!” Iko cries. “One, two, three!”

Emori pulls the top off the box and Murphy does the same with his. Iko snaps a picture.

Murphy stares at the inside of the box, the contents processing slowly. He looks up at Emori, who has her hands pressed to her mouth and tears in her eyes. He starts to laugh and she does as well, looking up at him.

“Yes,” she says, holding up the ring. He looks down at the golden ring sitting in the tissue paper in his box and lifts it out. He takes Emori’s ring and she laughs once. He slides it onto her ring finger and kisses her hand.

“I love you,” he says. She takes the ring from him and slides it onto his finger, saying, “I love you so much.” 

They both laugh and they’re both crying, but Murphy cups her face in his hands and kisses her, pulling her flush against him. Iko’s cheering and videotaping the entire event. Emori breaks away first, admiring the ring.

“I can’t believe we had the same idea,” she says, putting her head on his shoulder. 

“I can’t wait to get married,” he replies. Iko is now dancing around the room, singing, “Here comes the bride! All dressed in white! La la la la la la la la la la!” Murphy laughs at her.

“She’s my favorite present from you,” he says to Emori. She grins up at him.

“You didn’t see the bottom of the box, did you?”

He frowns and picks up the box that had the ring in it. He pulls the tissue paper out and his heart swells at what’s sitting at the bottom of the box. The same thing that made her leave all those years ago, but this time she won’t leave. Emori laughs and kisses his cheek, whispering in his ear, “Ready for another one?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm way too attached to this universe because my kids are HAPPY in it (i say as if i'm not obsessed with angst)
> 
> i said it was gross and domestic and for once i wasn't lying lol
> 
> fun fact the ring in the christmas present is how my husband proposed to me and the engagement ring that murphy buys for emori is based off of mine!

**Author's Note:**

> i'm too attached to iko but she's so cute!!


End file.
